The Principle
by Bluebird0032
Summary: Lucas has dealt with threats when he witnessed a murder, but this time, Mark's the one getting ready to sit in the witness chair. T for violence.


This story is written for entertainment purposes only with no intent or result of financial gain. I do not own "The Rifleman" franchise or any of the associated characters.

This wasn't a "one-shot" story, but start to finish I had it pretty much done in twenty-four hours. I wanted something that, to me, felt more like an episode; short, simple and to the point, in contrast to the next story I'm getting ready to finish up, which is at fifty-something thousand words right now.

This story was not written with the intention of being connected to any of my other stories, but due to how it turned out, it could be seen as a precursor to my next story, "Torn."

Let me know what you guys liked and didn't like about this one!

—

Lucas anxiously paced across the front porch, looking across the snowy land, hoping to see his son.

An hour overdue, Lucas knew something was wrong. He grabbed his rifle from inside the house and ran to the barn where he saddled Razor and rode for town.

Lucas's first stop was the school where he found Stephan Griswold locking up.

"Stephan, you didn't keep Mark afterward, did you?"

"Mark? Of course not," the teacher replied. "He's been exceptional all semester. He and the rest of the students all left at three-thirty when I dismissed them for Christmas break."

"Thanks."

Lucas kicked Razor and headed for Micah's office. He dismounted and grabbed his rifle before storming inside to find Mark sitting at Micah's desk, book in hand.

"Mark, what are you doing here?!" Lucas yelled as the door slammed shut behind him. "I was worried!"

Mark slowly put the book down and stood to answer his Pa.

"Pa, I'm sorry, but I-"

"It's freezing out there! I was worried BlueBoy had thrown you or- or..." Lucas stopped as he saw his son's eyes. His son was shaken to his core. "Mark... I'm sorry for snapping. Son, what's the matter?"

"Pa, I... I was coming home from school. I heard a shot ring out and I jumped from BlueBoy, grabbing my rifle. I looked out and I... I saw Trent Collins killing Mr. Sanderson. ...He saw me, I jumped on BlueBoy and rode for town. He shot at me-"

"He what!?" Lucas demanded.

"I'm alright, Pa, he missed."

Lucas motioned for his son to sit back down and sat on the edge of the desk, putting his hands on Mark's shoulders.

"I'm sorry I yelled Mark," Lucas said, still trying to get over the fact that someone had shot at his son.

"I understand, you were worried... and had right to be..."

"Are you alright?"

"I've seen people kill before... but... it's still just as sickening as the first time. I've had people try to kill me before... but... it's still... sobering."

"...Where's Micah?"

"He left with a posse and told me to stay put so I could identify Collins when they got back."

Lucas and Mark continued talk about what had happened until Micah got back with Trent Collins in tow.

"Mark, is this who you saw?"

"I'm sure, Micah."

"You lyin' little whelp!" Collins yelled.

Lucas instinctively pulled Mark behind him as Collins took a step forward.

"You willing to testify to that, Mark?" Micah asked, restraining the man.

"Yes, Sir."

"Alright, Collins, let's go," Micah said as he started pulling Trent towards the cells.

"You little brat, you'll pay for this!"

Lucas put a hand on Mark's shoulder and started walking his son to the door.

"Micah, I'm taking Mark home."

"Sure thing, Lucas."

As they mounted up, Lucas looked over towards his son.

"Mark, are you alright?"

"...Yeah, Pa. ...Can we just go home?"

—

A few nights later, Mark was finishing up the evening chores. Lucas had been out at a town council meeting, giving Mark a quiet evening at the ranch. He stood on the front porch of his home and looked out at the land, smiling. Turning to reach for the doorknob and pushing the door open, Mark was stepping into the house when his rifle was ripped from his hands and someone pulled him inside his home. Pain shot through Mark's head as he felt a pistol being beat across the back of his skull. Mark fell to the ground as the door was shut behind him. Feeling himself being pulled to his feet, Mark instinctively covered his head with his arms, only to be sent back onto the ground by a punch to his midsection.

As Mark hugged his stomach, a different set of hands pulled him off the ground and then alternately slapped and back handed the teenager before throwing him back to the floor. Mark repeatedly attempted to stand, only to be kicked back down to the ground. He looked up as a man stepped over his body, straddling him with a boot firmly planted on either side of him. A fist came down and hit Mark across the face, drawing more blood from the corner of his mouth and out of his nose.

Being picked up by his shirt collar, Mark was thrown into the wall and then held against it by a man with a bandana covering his face. All Mark could see were the man's blue, angry eyes.

"One word about Collins, and you'll be joining your Ma."

After sending a punch to Mark's gut, the man threw Mark across the room, the kitchen table catching him. As Mark crumpled to the ground, he looked up and saw the backs of two men leaving the house; his vision beginning to fade.

—

Lucas rode into the yard, surprised to see the lamps still lit inside his home. Dismounting from Razor, Lucas patted the horse on it's neck before leading him to the barn. After a long day of work on the range followed by a trip to town and back, Lucas took his time to give his horse a good brushing and helping of hay. Lucas grabbed his rifle from the corner of the stall and blew out the lantern, then crossed the yard and walked up the porch steps, unprepared for the sight that greeted him when he walked through the door.

"MARK!"

Lucas dropped his rifle and took several long strides towards his son who sat in front of the mirror, applying tonic to the several bruises that lined his face. Hearing his son sharply inhale and seeing him wince in pain as Lucas put a hand on Mark's shoulder, the rancher quickly removed it and gripped the back of the chair.

"Mark, what happened!?"

Allowing his Pa to take the rag from him, Mark relaxed and leaned against the chair.

"Trent," was all Mark could moan.

"This is about Collins?" Lucas demanded.

Mark painfully nodded, grimacing as Lucas tended to his son's injuries.

"Who did this, Mark? Did you get a good look at them?"

"Their faces were covered... all I saw were their eyes. But I don't know anyone that big accept Asa Collins..."

"So help me, I'll-"

Mark slowly reached up and put a hand on Lucas's forearm.

"Pa, It'll only aggravate them more. Besides... I can't say for sure it was Trent's brothers. You'd have no legal grounds to-"

"No legal grounds?!" Lucas boomed. "They break into our home and beat the living daylights out of you! I'd say-"

"Pa," Mark firmly interrupted. "It wouldn't stand in a court of law and then they'd have legal grounds to press charges against you. Please... let's just deal with Trent and worry about the others later."

Lucas didn't answer as he gently held Mark's chin with one hand and turned his son's face so he could see the other cheek. Mark looked at Lucas's reflection in the mirror and could see the rage in his Pa's face.

Father and son sat quietly as Lucas worked and Mark tried not to give full indication of how much pain he was in.

As his Pa was finishing with the last of the bruises on his face, Mark started to take off his jean jacket, grimacing as he worked the muscles in his shoulder and felt the pain in his ribs. Seeing his son's struggle, Lucas put the cloth down and helped Mark remove his jacket. After unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt, Mark then leaned forward, crossed his arms, and put his head down as Lucas looked at the shoulder.

"Mark, what happened?" Lucas asked, appalled and enraged.

"I don't really know," Mark mumbled as he tried to stay awake. "It just happened so fast..."

"How can you not-" The words died on Lucas's lips, realizing he was taking his anger out on his son. He tended to the shoulder as he went on, "...Is there anything you can remember?"

"Not really more than I already said."

"Alright. Why didn't you use the witch-hazel?"

"Couldn't find any. I think we used all that up when you got bucked off that bronc."

"I forgot." Lucas tossed the cloth onto the counter. "That should do it for now, let's get you to bed."

Mark nodded and slowly stood up, Lucas supporting him. Leaning heavily on his Pa, Mark walked to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bunk. Mark tried leaning forward to take his boots off, but let out a small cry of pain.

"Let me, Mark."

After Lucas pulled off his boots, Mark didn't bother changing before he painfully got underneath the covers.

"Pa, when Doc gets back tomorrow..."

"We'll be waiting when the noon stage gets in."

"My ribs are killing me."

"Do you think they're bruised or broken?"

"I don't know, they just hurt..."

"We'll go in early and get some witch-hazel."

"Pa...?"

"Yes, Mark?"

"I still want to testify."

"...And I'm proud of you for it, Mark."

—

Micah was in the middle of pouring his third cup of coffee when he heard the door to his office open behind him. He turned around to see Lucas walking into the office and Mark easing himself into a chair.

"Mark, what happened to you, boy!?"

The marshal set his mug on the desk and walked across the room as the door closed behind Lucas.

"Mark had visitors out at the ranch last night, Micah," Lucas explained, anger in his voice.

"Visitors!? Just who-"

"Asa Collins!" Lucas yelled.

"I didn't say for sure it was him, Pa," Mark quietly reminded. "I just said I don't know anyone else that big..."

"You didn't see them for sure, Mark?"

Mark shook his head as he shifted his weight in the chair.

"They wore bandannas around their faces and hats that covered their hair. One man was definitely big enough to be Asa, and his eyes, they were the same."

"Did they say anything to you?"

"...They threatened me, said not to say anything about Collins," Mark answered, not daring to put his Pa through the man's exact words.

"Mark, I'm sorry..."

"It's they're fault, Micah, not yours. I'm still gonna testify."

"But I don't want that or what happened last night publicized," Lucas stated.

Micah could still see the hate Lucas held for the men that had done this to his son in the rancher's eyes.

"Maybe the two of you should stay in town until this is over."

"I'm not gonna hide, Micah," Mark firmly answered. "I understand Pa not wanting us to tell everyone I'm still going to testify, but I'm not going to let him scare me out of my own home."

"Mark, Micah has a point. They could easily come back while I'm working on the range, it may be best for you to stay in town around people."

"If they don't think I'm gonna testify, they don't have reason to come back. And even if they did, this time I'd be ready for them."

"Mark, the point is, I don't want you to have to be ready for them."

"Pa, you've always told me that a man doesn't back down from a fight. Now I'm not looking for one, but I'm not gonna let them dictate what I can and cannot do, either. If it was you, you wouldn't stay in town until the trial."

Lucas looked at his son and sighed, understanding Mark was growing up and that his son was trying to be a man.

"...No, I guess I wouldn't." Lucas turned as he spoke to Micah, "I have some errands to run and we're waiting for Doc to get in on the stage to take a look at Mark's ribs. Would you mind if he hung out it here for a while?"

"Of course not, Lucas. I'll make sure this ruffian stays in line," Micah teased.

"Mark I'll be back in a few minutes with some witch-hazel."

"I've got some, Lucas, don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I'll see you both later."

"Bye, Pa."

"See ya, Lucas-boy."

As Lucas left the office, Micah stepped to his desk and pulled a jar from a drawer before handing it to Mark, who started applying it to his bruises.

"Mark when you say they threatened you, what exactly did they say?"

"...They said if I said anything about Collins, that I'd be joining my Ma. I couldn't say that in front of Pa, he's angry enough."

"I hope you know he's not angry at you, Mark."

"I know, but I didn't want him doing something that he would regret."

"How'd it happen?"

"I was doing my barn chores and came in late last night. When I stepped inside the house, my rifle was torn from my hands and I was pulled the rest of the way inside. I honestly don't know everything that happened... it all happened so fast. After they were done beating me up he shoved me into the wall and threatened me then, before throwing me into the table and leaving." Mark paused for a moment, then put his hand to the back of his head. "I guess they pistol whipped me, too."

"You're lucky you're alive. A blow like that could kill a man."

"I know... but I think he knew what he was doing. They didn't want me dead... they just wanted to scare me."

"And they thought because you're only sixteen, you would scare."

"I mean... Micah, I admit I'm scared. After I woke up last night and started working on my injuries I was worried that they were gonna come back. When Pa first rode into the yard I got to the bedroom as fast as I could and looked out that window, afraid they were back, thankful it was just Pa. But, well... watching Pa all these years I've learned that there's a difference between being scared and being a coward. A coward wouldn't still be testifying come Monday."

"You make your Pa mighty proud, Mark." Micah patted Mark on the shoulder and saw the boy wince. "What's the matter, Son?"

"I think they busted my shoulder."

Micah took the jar of witch-hazel from Mark and had him unbutton his shirt so he could tend to the large bruise that was there.

"Mark, I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"It wasn't your fault, Micah. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually, I guess I was in the right place at the right time... Mr. Sanderson deserves justice."

—

Lucas was waiting at the stage depot when the stage arrived, half an hour late. He helped a young woman down who was followed by her husband before Doc Burrage came stepping off the stage.

"Lucas, surprised to see you here. You going somewhere?"

"I wish, Doc. I know you just got back, but I need you to take a look at Mark."

"Mark?" The doctor asked in surprise as he accepted his trunk from the driver. "What happened to Mark?"

"I'd rather not discuss it out here."

"Bring him over to the clinic, I'll take a look."

"Thanks, Doc." Lucas slapped the man on the shoulder and hurried back to Micah's office where he found Mark asleep.

"He fell asleep about twenty minutes ago, Lucas-boy."

Lucas sat down beside his son and gently shook him. Mark startled awake, but settled as he got his bearings.

"Doc's back, let's head over to the clinic."

Mark nodded, rubbing his head as he stood.

"Thanks, Micah," Lucas called as they started for the door.

"Let me know if I can do anything."

Father and son walked to the clinic and walked inside where Doc waited.

"Lucas, what happened to him?!" Doc exclaimed. "Don't tell me you've got him trying to break broncs!"

"No," Mark assured. "This is curtesy of someone who doesn't want to see Trent Collins hung for murder."

"What?" Doc asked as he helped Mark up onto the examination table.

"A few days ago Mark saw Trent Collins kill George Sanderson," Lucas explained as the doctor examined the bruising on Mark's face. "Someone came to the ranch last night to get him to change his story."

"They sure did a number, Mark," Doc stated in disbelief.

"It's not his face I'm worried about, Doc," Lucas said.

"What else did they do?" Burrage incredulously asked.

"His shoulder is bruised good and he was complaining about his ribs last night."

"Mark, can you take your shirt off for me?"

Mark nodded and started to do as the doctor asked. Seeing his son struggling, Lucas stepped to Mark and helped him take the shirt off. As he did, both men were shocked by the bruising that lined Mark's stomach, chest, and back.

"Mark, why didn't you say it was this bad last night?" Lucas asked.

"Nothing else we could've done last night," Mark answered.

"Luke, bandages are in that first cabinet." Lucas nodded and retrieved them for Doc. "Mark, what all happened?"

"I don't remember too much. A lot of me getting kicked and thrown around. One of the men was at least twice Pa's size. ...I think my head snapped back a couple times and hit the floor, after they hit me across the back of the head with a gun."

"With a-" Lucas started. "Mark you never said anything about-"

"I didn't remember until I was talking to Micah, Pa," Mark interrupted his father.

"Anything else I should know?" Doc asked.

"Not that I can remember," Mark replied.

Doc shook his head in disbelief as he tended to the injuries.

"Well that's about all I can do. They're bruised, but thankfully not broken," Doc said as he finished wrapping Mark's ribs. "I'll give you some medicine to help with the pain, but no heavy lifting or chopping wood, and no riding around."

"Thanks, Doc," Mark offered.

As Doc stepped to his medicine cabinet, Lucas helped Mark put his shirt back on and then get down from the table.

"Lucas, make sure he takes one of these every four or five hours," Doc said as he handed Lucas the bottle. "And make sure he doesn't move around any more than necessary."

"Thanks, Doc."

"You haven't seen my bill yet," Burrage teased. "I'll see you two in church Sunday."

Lucas paid Doc before he and Mark walked back to the buckboard.

"Mark, do you want lunch over at the hotel?"

"Can we just go home? I don't want Lou finding out."

"What's wrong with Lou finding out?"

Mark raised his eyebrows at Lucas in response.

"Right..."

Lucas helped Mark into the buckboard before coming around the other side. Lucas was reaching for the reigns when he saw Asa Collins headed their direction. He reached for his rifle, only to feel his son's hand grabbing his arm. Lucas shot Mark a look, but relaxed when he saw the look in his son's eye.

"Lucas, what'd you let that boy of yours get into?" Collins asked as he stepped to the wagon, resting his foot on one of the wheel spokes.

"Listen here, Asa, and you listen good," Lucas demanded as he pointed a finger at the man. "No one, and I mean no one, gets away with touching my son. If I see you within ten feet of him again, so help me I'll-"

"Lucas, what's got you so riled?"

The rage boiled inside of Lucas, causing veins to bulge in his temples. The rancher jumped down from the buckboard and clenched the man's shirt in a fist.

"So help me if you ever lay a hand on my son again I'll make you regret the day you were born."

Lucas shoved the man backwards and got back into the seat before slapping the reigns and driving the team forward.

Mark looked back to see a smug smile crossing Collins' face, matching his laughing blue eyes.

"...Pa, if I killed somebody, you wouldn't beat someone up to keep them quiet, would you?"

"Mark you know the answer to that," Lucas answered in surprise. "But you'd never kill someone."

"I just don't understand what makes a person do this kind of thing. I mean, I'd take a bullet for you, and I know you'd never kill in cold blood, but if you ever did... well I couldn't hurt someone else to keep you from getting what... you'd deserve."

"I don't understand it either, Mark."

After they returned to the ranch, Lucas sent Mark inside before taking care of the team. When he came inside the house, he saw Mark again rubbing his head.

"Headache?"

"Started this morning when I got up," Mark nodded in response.

"Need anything?"

Mark shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.

"Why don't you go lay down while I fix lunch?"

"Pa, I'm fine," Mark assured as he sat down at the table, unable to stop a moan escaping his lips.

"Fine?" Lucas asked.

"...Will be," Mark answered as he crossed his arms on top of the table and laid his head down.

Lucas looked at his son in concern, in his mind still seeing the bruises that covered his son's body.

When Lucas was done making lunch he stepped to the table and roused Mark, who had fallen asleep. As they ate, Lucas couldn't take his eyes off Mark's bruised face.

"...Mark, I'm sorry I wasn't home," Lucas finally said.

Mark looked up at his Pa, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Pa, this isn't your fault any more than it's Micah's or... or Lou's. Neither of us knew this was going to happen, and I was the one who decided to stay home last night."

"I just..." Lucas paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "Mark, I know you're not a child. But any parent hurts when their son or daughter is hurt. I love you, Mark. And I hate that you have to go through this, especially at your age. You're running out of growing up time much too quickly..."

"...I understand, Pa. As much as I can."

"Mark, I know you said you talked to Micah about what happened, but is there anything we need to talk about?"

"Pa... do you think after I testify... do you think they'd make good on their threat?"

"There wouldn't be much point to it."

"There wasn't much point to them beating me up, either..."

Lucas looked into his son's eyes and saw the fear his son was allowing them to show.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mark."

"Is that why you wanted me to stay in town?"

"Mark..." Lucas sighed, knowing he needed to be honest with his son. "Mark, I don't know if they would or not. Which is why I need you to understand that I'm going to be protective. Not because I think you're a child, but because I love you and we both know you would have no chance against Asa Collins. I don't want you to worry, but I want you to be careful, and I want you to stay close."

"...I understand, Pa."

—

Sunday morning, Mark found himself haunted by strange stares. Unlike the adults, Mark's friends had no trouble asking what had happened. Mark simply replied that he got into a fight with somebody. A few tried to get Mark to divulge more details, but eventually gave up, knowing Mark wasn't one to go around spreading stories about someone.

After the service, Lucas had Mark wait in the buckboard while he talked to Micah. As most of the Sunday crowd disappeared, Caleb Fogerty approached Mark.

"You didn't get into a fight with someone, did you?"

"Not exactly."

"Mark, I'm sorry."

Mark looked around before turning his attention back to Caleb.

"I understand where you're coming from. At least I'm trying to. I haven't told anyone that you were there, too. But if something happens, you have to step forward."

"What do you mean, if something happens?"

"Just that. Promise me."

"Mark, I have a young wife, a baby on the way, and..."

"And if something does happen to me, and you don't come forward, I hope you can live with the fact that you're the reason a killer went free. And if he ever kills again, I hope you can live with the fact that that blood will be on your hands."

"It's not like I asked for any of this!"

"And you think I did?"

The man walked away, ashamed a sixteen-year-old was more of a man than he was.

Mark stared after the man, confused; trying to understand. Caleb was four years older than him and had gotten married the previous August. He grew up out east, but his father moved the family to New Mexico when he was sixteen. Caleb still wasn't accustomed to everything that came with living life in the west. Mark could understand him being afraid for his family, and didn't blame him for it. What he didn't understand was being willing to let a murderer go free.

"Ready to go home, Mark?" Lucas asked as he climbed up into the buckboard.

"Yeah, Pa."

—

As Lucas drove the team home, he could tell something was on Mark's mind. His son's eyes were distant and he held a confused look on his face.

"Something you need to talk about, Mark?"

"Just trying to understand something I don't think I ever will."

"Like what?"

"...Like how what happened the other night could stop someone from testifying. I don't understand why, or how, people have so little respect for the law and justice that they would refuse to come forward if they saw something."

"You know I don't agree with it, but some people just don't see it as their business. They don't want to get involved because they don't see it as their problem."

"But it's a matter of principle. And to an extent, it is their business because it's our community, it's our laws, and it's our justice system that needs to be upheld. Our friends, our neighbors. If everyone saw everything as none of their business, there would be no one to keep order. And what if it would have been his brother, or his father, or his son? What if-"

Lucas suddenly pulled the team off the road and brought the buckboard to a stop. He turned to his son, who was just realizing what he said.

"This isn't hypothetical, Mark. There's something you know and I want to know what that something is."

"...I can't, Pa."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"Pa, I gave my word to somebody. You've always taught me how important it is to keep my promises and... I just can't."

"Did somebody else see Trent Collins kill George?"

Mark sat there, unable to lie... unable to tell the truth. Hoping his silence would be enough of an answer.

"Mark, I..." Lucas paused, understanding where his son was coming from. "I don't like you keeping things from me, and you know that. But you're right. I raised you to be a man of your word and as long as keeping your word doesn't contradict what's right, I respect your choice and wouldn't expect any less of you." Lucas slapped the reigns and drove the term back onto the road.

"I'm sorry, Pa."

"You don't need to apologize, Mark. I trust your discernment."

The rest of the ride home still remained quiet. After lunch, Lucas and Mark read some from the Bible before Lucas went to work on the barn chores. When he returned to the house, he found Mark sitting at the table, deep in thought. Lucas sat across from his son, bringing Mark back to the present.

"Something else on your mind, Son?"

Mark slowly looked to his Pa, trying to find a way to ask his question.

"...Pa, on the way home, you said... you said you trust my discernment."

"I did," Lucas replied with a nod.

"I don't mean to say you were lying or anything like that, but..."

"You want to know if deep down, I really do trust you?"

Mark nodded.

Lucas let out a long sigh before asking, "Would I be right in assuming this goes back to when the Bullocks moved to town?"

Mark again nodded.

"Mark, for the record, that had more to do with my jealousy of Mr. Bullock than anything else. But you also had gone and spooked cattle and the facts were adding up in ways I didn't like. But I also knew you and I should've just come right out and asked you. It was just difficult because you had tested the waters with spooking the cattle. But since then, Mark, you've done a lot of growing up this year. Your accident and being paralyzed had a lot to do with that, I think. Since then you've continued to prove to me that I can trust you. And I won't ever doubt something you tell me again."

"I won't ever give you cause to doubt me again."

Mark slightly leaned forward, but sharply inhaled as pain shot across his ribs.

"When was the last time you took your medicine?"

"Before we went to church, I guess."

Lucas stood and went to get the pills and a glass of water for his son. As Mark watched Lucas, he thought back to a time when his Pa had witnessed a murder, and the murderer's relatives had threatened both of them. Mark was thankful he was the only one the man had threatened to kill.

—

Micah looked up from his desk to see Buddy and Asa Collins entering his office.

"What can I do for you boys?"

"We're here to see Trent," Buddy, the younger of the two, answered.

"I was gonna ask you, too," Asa began. "I saw Mark McCain the other day. What happened to him?"

"Somebody wanted to get a message across to him about testifying against your brother."

"I sure hope you don't think we had anything to do with that," Asa replied. "I mean, we don't think it's fair Trent has to be locked up in jail until the story is set straight in court, but ruffing up a witness, especially someone like Mark McCain, would just be plain wrong."

"I didn't say a word about the two of you having anything to do with it, did I?"

"You might as well have," Buddy answered.

"You have five minutes with him," Micah said as he unlocked the door leading to the cell area.

The two brothers waited for the door to close and lock behind them before stepping to Trent's cell. The prisoner met them at the bars, arms crossed across his chest.

"It didn't work," Trent informed in a low voice. "I heard McCain and his son in here the other day with the marshal. The brat still wants to testify."

"I told you it'd never work," Buddy said as he turned to Asa. "The kid is too much like his sod bustin' daddy."

"Asa, you've gotta do something! You're the one that got me into this mess!" Trent demanded as he gripped the bars of his cell.

"Trent, I wasn't the one who went and killed a man in broad daylight. But don't worry, I've got a plan."

"That's what you said last time! You said you'd scare him out of testifying, and we all know how that turned out!"

"So now I'm gonna make sure he doesn't have a chance to testify."

—

As Lucas did the supper dishes that evening, Mark sat in his Pa's chair, trying to stay awake as he read.

Drying and putting away the last dish, Lucas looked over to see that Mark had fallen asleep. Lucas sighed in concern as he saw his son's face. Asleep, Mark had no control over the expression his face showed, and Lucas could see the strain, tension, and pain his son felt there.

Walking out to the front porch, Lucas looked up at the night sky. He was proud of his boy, his boy that was becoming a man... his boy... that had become a man over the last year. But he desperately wished this was something his son would have never had to go through.

"Nice evening, isn't it?"

Lucas turned to see Buddy Collins coming around the side of the house, gun drawn and pointed at Lucas. Lucas looked around, only then realizing he had left his rifle inside.

"What do you want?" Lucas demanded.

"Let's go inside and talk."

Buddy motioned with his gun for Lucas to get moving. Lucas slowly turned and walked inside the house to see Asa Collins twisting Mark's arm behind his back and holding a gun to Mark's temple. Lucas's eyes met his son's; he could see Mark making every effort to fight the pain.

"Sit," Buddy ordered as he motioned to a chair.

Lucas complied, keeping his eyes locked on Mark.

Holstering his gun, Buddy started to use the rope he had held in his left hand to tie Lucas to the chair.

"I already got your message," Mark tried to explain.

Asa twisted Mark's arm tighter, causing a small cry of pain to escape Mark's lips. Lucas sat in agony, unable to do anything for his son.

"And we heard you're still gonna stand up tomorrow at the trial."

"Who gave you an idea like that?" Lucas tried to bluff.

"Pa won't let me," Mark added.

"Not according to Trent," the youngest Collins brother answered as he continued to tie Lucas up. "According to him, you told the Marshal you still intend to testify against him at the trial."

"Well you heard wrong," Lucas spat back.

Mark tried to bolt forward as Buddy hit his Pa across the face, but couldn't get out of Asa's grasp.

"Well, we're gonna make sure you can't." Asa let go of Mark's arm and shoved him forward. "Let's get your horse ready."

Mark looked to his Pa, asking him for what he should do. Lucas hesitated, not wanting Mark out of his sight, but knowing they had no choice.

"...Go on, Mark."

Lucas watched as Asa followed his son out of the house. As the door closed, Lucas turned towards Buddy who was helping himself to the brandy in the cabinet.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"He'll be fine, just as long as you cooperate."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you and I are gonna stay here and then tomorrow morning we're goin' to town to tell the marshal your son changed his mind. And then we're gonna wait for the trial to finish, and then Asa will come back and with your son tomorrow night. But if you give any indication that anything's wrong, we might just have to kill Mark."

"Micah will know something's wrong."

"Well then you better convince him otherwise."

The minutes ticked by before Lucas heard the door open and saw Collins shoving his son into the house. Rage boiled inside of Lucas as he saw new bruises developing on his son's face.

Asa stepped towards Buddy and took the bottle away from his brother before taking a drink.

"You explain to him?" Asa asked.

"Yeah, and he's not going to give us any trouble, are you sod buster?"

"No..." Lucas grunted.

Mark suddenly bolted towards his Pa and started to pull on the ropes that bound Lucas to the chair. Lucas was shocked Mark would try something so foolish until he heard his son whisper, "Caleb Fogerty."

Mark suddenly felt a hand grab his collar and pull him backwards. Lucas cringed with every slap his son received and tried in vain to get out of his restraints. He watched in horror as Mark was drug out of their home and desperately yelled after his son.

"MARK!"

"You better pray that son of yours doesn't do anything more to rile Asa."

"I will see both of your sorry carcasses in jail for what you've done!" Lucas yelled.

—

Being pushed down the porch steps, Mark tripped, fell to the ground, and felt pain shoot through his ankle before feeling the all too familiar sensation of being kicked in the ribs. He pulled his knees to his chest and again tried to use his arms to protect his head. Collins pulled Mark to his feet and sent a right hook to his left cheek, sending Mark tumbling back to the hard ground. Painfully, Mark tried to push himself off the ground, Collins countering the attempt by using his boot to flip Mark onto his back. The large man used one knee to pin Mark to the ground before driving his fist into Mark's face.

Collins no longer saw Mark McCain. He only saw the face of the man that had killed his father, and his chance for revenge. Standing up, Collins took his big hands and wrapped the fabric of Mark's shirt into a fist before pulling Mark up and dragging him towards the corral. Shoving Mark against the corral fence, Collins again back handed him.

Mark finally felt the man release the grasp he had on him. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Mark felt himself then being picked up and slung over a saddle before his hands and feet were tied to the stirrups. He felt BlueBoy starting to move, and then passed out from the pain that coursed through his body.

—

The next morning, Lucas walked into the school turned court room with Buddy Collins right behind him. As Micah approached Lucas, Buddy whispered, "Remember, Lucas, Mark's life depends on you."

Collins walked away and towards his brother and Trent's attorney.

"Lucas where's Mark?"

"Mark won't be testifying today," Lucas replied, feigning frustration with Mark using the hate he felt for the Collins brothers.

"What!?"

"You heard me, Micah. As much as I tried to raise that boy right..."

"But Mark was more than willing to testify when we talked," Micah pressed, still not believing this sudden change.

"Well he won't be testifying now. Couldn't even come to the trial."

"Lucas-boy, we need Mark's testimony."

"I know that, Micah! But I can't make him be here!"

Before Micah could reply, Lucas turned and walked away, heading straight for Caleb Fogerty.

"Mark's not going to be here today," Lucas told the man as he grabbed his arm. "And I hope for your sake that the sacrifices my son has made in the last week won't be in vain."

"Wh... why won't Mark be here?" The man nervously asked.

"You figure it out."

Lucas let go of the man's arm and took a seat towards the back of the room. Micah approached Lucas again, knowing something was wrong; knowing someone was putting pressure on Lucas.

"Lucas, where's your rifle?"

"Didn't think they'd allow fire arms."

"So you decided to leave it at home with Mark?"

Lucas saw Buddy looking at him from across the room.

"Mark has his own rifle."

"...Is there anything that can be done to get Mark here today?" Micah asked, hoping Lucas would be able to somehow divulge what was going on.

"I'm afraid not, Micah. We're just going to have to wait for this trial to get over and done with. He's got us all stuck between a rock and a hard place."

Micah knew Lucas wasn't talking about Mark. He looked around, almost certain "he" was Asa Collins, who wasn't anywhere to be seen.

The trial began, the minutes agonizingly dragging by. Lucas paid no attention to the proceedings of the trial, he only had one thought: Mark.

The judge had called for a fifteen minute recess when Lucas saw Caleb Fogerty approaching the prosecutor. They talked for a few minutes before the attorney approached the judge, who nodded and went along with what the lawyer had said.

As the room was being called back to order, Lucas heard the door quietly open and closed. He turned, hoping by some miracle it was Mark, but instead, his heart started pounding when he saw Asa Collins walk through the door.

Why was he here? Where was Mark? What had this man done with his son? Time seemed to stop as Lucas watched the man take a seat, a smug smile across his face. Lucas started to get up, only to hear a gun being cocked behind him.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Buddy taunted from behind him.

Lucas froze, in his mind's eye seeing his son being drug out of their home over and over again.

The trial continued to drag on, Caleb Fogerty finally taking the stand. By this time, Buddy had taken a seat beside Lucas and the rancher watched the reactions of the Collins brothers as Fogerty gave his story.

—

As the judge's gavel came down, sentencing Trent Collins to be hung, Lucas suddenly stood and pulled Buddy from his seat, trying to wrestle Collins's gun away from him. In the midst of the struggle, Lucas managed to yell out, "Micah, get Asa!"

Micah brought his gun to bear on the other Collins brother and ordered him to drop any weapons he had.

John Hamilton came to Lucas's assistance and tore Buddy's gun away as Lucas punched the man across the face, knocking him unconscious.

"Lucas what's going on?" Micah asked.

Lucas ran toward Asa and grabbed the man's shirt.

"WHERE IS HE!?" Lucas demanded, anger and hatred in his eyes.

"Probably dead by now," the man sneered in response.

Lucas shoved the man backwards sending him into a row of chairs before running out of the schoolhouse, jumping on Razor and riding home.

Lucas checked the house, then the barn, desperately yelling his son's name.

No reply came.

—

Lucas looked around the yard for BlueBoy's tracks, finally finding the trail Mark and Collins' horses had left the night before. He followed them as fast as he could, but Lucas knew he wasn't making good time. The trail was difficult to follow, having already faded significantly since the night before.

Lucas continued to ride for hours, growing frustrated as he lost his son's trail more and more frequently. Eventually coming upon the remnants of a camp, Lucas's blood boiled as he saw signs of a struggle and blood on the ground.

Lucas rode until it was too dark to logically continue. He made camp and sat by the fire, his thoughts on his son.

Pulling his son's picture from his wallet, Lucas rubbed his thumb across the photograph.

Lucas's had snapped up when he heard a horse approaching. He grabbed his rifle and waited as the rider approached, then relaxed as he recognized his friend.

"Thanks for coming Micah..." Lucas stopped, seeing the horse Micah had brought along. "BlueBoy? But how-"

"Collins brought the horse back with him, Lucas..." Micah dismounted as Lucas's heart broke even more.

"...Did they tell you anything?" Lucas finally asked.

"I tried, Lucas. Everything I could think of. The judge even tried. They wouldn't tell us anything."

"Micah... if he's... if he's..."

"He's strong, Lucas. Don't lose hope."

"I should have made Mark stay in town..."

"They would have found a way, Lucas. Don't beat yourself up over it. We're both proud of Mark for the stance he took, but it was his decision to take it, not ours."

"But he knew I would never approve of him doing anything different. And that stance... Micah... it could have... what if it cost him his life...?"

"We don't know that, Lucas. Don't give up. We're going to find Mark and we're going back home, and the judge has already agreed to stay in North Fork until we can have Asa and Buddy's trial."

—

Seeing a cabin in the distance, Lucas kicked Razor and raced towards the building. Jumping down from his horse and running inside, Lucas yelled for his son.

"MARK! MAR-" Lucas stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes fell on a small figure crumpled in front of a fire place that had died out long before the trial had ended. "Mark...?" Lucas's voice shook as he called to his son, begging his son to answer.

But the figure didn't move; it stayed frozen in its place.

"Mark..." Lucas cried as he forced himself towards his son.

Dropping to his knees, Lucas pulled his boy's frozen body into his arms, burying his face into his son's neck as he wept; sobbing in relief when he felt his son shivering.

"Lucas...?" Micah called from the doorway.

After several long moments, Lucas found his voice.

"Micah, my bed roll, get my bed roll and matches from the saddle bag. He's freezing!"

As Micah ran out the door, Lucas began trying to rub warmth into his son, thanking God his son was alive.

—

Again, Mark felt someone touching him, but he didn't have the strength to fight back or try to move away. He lied there, anticipating Collins to finish what he had started. He heard distant voices, Buddy and Trent no doubt, but the longer he fought to stay conscious, the clearer the voices became. ...And they weren't so distant. One man spoke from a few feet away, while the other voice came from right behind him. Mark realized arms were wrapped around him. They were tight, but not harsh. And as Mark listened closer to the voice...

"P-Pa...?" Mark opened his eyes and painfully turned his head to see that it was his Pa's arms that held him.

"Mark..." Relieved, Lucas rested his cheek against the top of his son's head. "Thank God you're awake, Son..."

As Lucas tightened his grip around his shivering son, Mark let out a moan, causing Lucas to let go.

"What hurts, Mark?"

"E-Every... t-thing..."

"I'm sorry, Son. Just as soon as the sun comes up tomorrow morning we'll head back home."

"Pa, h-how lon-ong has i-it b-been?"

"The Collins came night before last. Micah and I found you this afternoon."

"T-Trent?"

"Sentenced to hang."

"Th-then C-Caleb..."

"He came forward, Mark," Micah assured.

"P-Pa... I-I'm c-co-cold..."

"I know, Mark..." Lucas replied as he tried to gently rub Mark's arms. "I know..."

—

As the sun began to color the morning sky, Mark sat in the saddle and leaned back against his Pa.

Despite Lucas and Micah's efforts to keep Mark awake, the steady rhythm of Razor's walk lulled Mark to sleep.

Micah could see the worry and concern on the rancher's face and tried to reassure Lucas everything would be alright, but Lucas wouldn't believe it until he saw his son up and around again.

It was an agonizingly slow ride back to North Fork. Lucas finally pulled Razor to a stop in front of the clinic and carried his son inside.

Lucas watched as the doctor removed his son's shirt, appalled at how much worse the bruising was on his son's torso. Doc looked up at Lucas, then back at Micah.

"Lucas..."

"I'm not leaving!"

"You two go find that judge and make sure the Collins brothers never set foot anywhere again as free men."

Lucas was torn between staying with his son and getting justice for his son, but Micah pulled him from the office.

They found the judge and Micah explained the whole story as Lucas sat there, dead to the world. He just kept seeing his son crumpled on that cabin floor.

The judge looked to the father, amazed at how collected he seemed to be.

"Mr. McCain?"

Lucas slowly turned his head toward the judge.

"What do you wish to see happen here?"

"...A speedy and public trial," Lucas quoted as he snapped the pencil he held in his hands.

The judge turned back towards Micah as he asked, "Marshal, what do you think the chances are of getting a jury together this afternoon?"

"Just tell me when and where, Judge."

—

Despite the Collins' lawyer's attempts to postpone the trial, the judge shot down every one of the man's arguments. When Asa and Buddy Collins walked into the courtroom, it took everything Lucas had to not lunge at the men and wrap his hands around their necks. He just kept seeing his son... bruised, beaten, and fighting for his life. The only thing that kept Lucas sane during the trial was knowing that his son wouldn't have to go through telling his side of what happened to a room full of people.

From the time the trial began, it only took half an hour for the judge to sentence the brothers to fifteen years of prison with hard labor. To Lucas, it sounded like a slap on the wrist.

—

Returning to the clinic, Lucas found Doc working at his desk. The doctor asked Lucas to sit and moved forward to the edge of his his seat as he spoke.

"Lucas... you saw Mark. I can't sugar coat it. He's going to be alright, but he has a long road ahead of him. He has several broken ribs, and a bruised lung. I can't wrap his ribs because it's going to constrict his breathing and I'm worried about pneumonia setting in. He has a severely sprained ankle, and... I don't know how else to put it, he's going to be in a world of hurt for a few weeks. I... I can't imagine what he went through." Doc saw the anger and the pain in Lucas's eyes. "...You can see him now."

Lucas nodded and slowly stood, then walked back to his son's room. Lucas sat at his son's bedside and wept, knowing just how close he had come to losing his son.

—

Lucas anxiously waited through the night for Mark to wake again. He needed to know, for sure, that his son would be alright. He needed to know that Asa Collins hadn't broken his son.

Micah stopped by the next morning to check on Lucas and Mark. Seeing that Mark was still asleep, Micah asked Lucas to let him know if there was any change.

As the door shut behind Micah, Lucas reached forward and pushed his son's bangs out of Mark's face. A small, hopeful smile crossed Lucas's face when he saw Mark slightly move his head.

"Mark?"

Mark opened his eyes and found himself looking up at his Pa. He saw how tired and worried his Pa's eyes were.

"I'm alive, Pa..." Mark whispered as he closed his eyes.

"Mark, try to stay awake," Lucas pleaded.

"I'm trying," Mark answered with a half smile as he opened his eyes again.

"Let me get you something to drink."

"I'll take a shot of whiskey," Mark teased, bringing relief to Lucas's eyes.

—

It was a month after Lucas had brought Mark home from Doc's. His physical injuries were healing well, and father and son spent many nights out on the porch talking about what had happened.

One night, Lucas joined Mark out on the porch after finishing the dishes. He knew something was on his son's mind, but hadn't been able to draw it out of him over dinner. The rancher sat down and looked at his son who sat with his rifle across his lap.

"Pa," Mark suddenly said as he turned to Lucas. "I love the ranch... I love our life together. I hope one day to raise a family here. But after everything that happened, I can't help but think that maybe I have another calling, too. ...Ever since the whole ordeal with the Collins... I just can't shake this feeling. But it's not just a feeling... it's a passion. A passion to see justice done. And hopefully nothing like what happened with the Collins will ever happen around here again, but if it does... if anything does... Pa, do you think maybe I could pick up the badge? ...Do you think I could become Micah's deputy?"

Lucas leaned back and smiled to himself. He couldn't say he was surprised... he had seen this coming for a few months, before the Collins ever entered the picture.

"Yes, Mark, I think you could. But how about you give me just a few more years to enjoy time with my partner before he goes riding off into the sunset?"

"I know I've still got a lot to learn from you, Pa. I'd at least wait until I was done with high school... as boring as it is."

Lucas laughed as he put a gentle hand on his son's shoulder.

"Boring, is it?"

"Yeah. I mean who cares what X is equal to? It's a letter!"

Lucas laughed as he shook his head.

"Now geometry, that's practical. But what are they doing putting letters in math?!"


End file.
